Prelude to a Scar
by InTheVast
Summary: Ron sees something he didn't expect while spying on Draco and his father, Lucius.


Title: Prelude to a Scar

Rating: R-Nc-17 ish

Pairings: LM/DM, RW/DM

Warnings: um some sadomasochism, a little bad language…

Dedication: For Meixia for the San Antonio Secret Santa Slasher thing-y 2005, actually scratch that she sucks. She didn't even tell me what she thought of it, no email or anything, or simple thank you for the time I spent writing this because she likes Lucius/Draco which isn't really my thing… no thank you for the gifts I spent time and money on… Plus the rule was that we're supposed to have a gift with our accompanying fanart or fanfic, with a $20 limit. She bought a probably $9 poster for her secret santa person. Can anyone say half-assed, and YOU SUCK? I'm so tempted to put her lj name… but I won't. lol

So instead of her I dedicate this to everyone on my lj flist. You guys rock. :D

completed January 9th, 2005. 3:02 a.m., edited January 15th, 2005 9:51 a.m.

Ron was having a good day until Draco Malfoy tripped him on his way to Potions. He had done his homework, he had his favorite warm, wooly sweater on, all was right with the world, but then suddenly he found the floor spinning up to meet him, and his long, clumsy arms dropping his painstakingly arranged school work to cushion his fall.

Furious, he was beginning to gather his scattered books and papers that had gone flying with his stinging palms, and he was not surprised at all to see the blonde boy who smiled coldly down at him on the floor when he looked up.

"Learn how to stay out of my way Weasley."

"Bastard." He growled. Just one more word… He looked around quickly neither Hermione or Harry was nearby… Neither were Malfoy's henchmen…

The world was still for a moment. The world centered on the space between Draco's ice grey eyes, and Ron's hot baited breath.

"I guess your parents are too poor to afford to teach you some manners." Came Draco finally. "I suppose you live like heathens."

"I'll teach you some manners Malfoy!" And then he pounced. Screw his magic books and homework. As they struggled, panting, he used his legs to pin that slimy git, and he landed a good right hook on that smug, pointy face before he was pulled away by Snape. Damn, damn.

Snape's greasy face loomed above him.

"Detention Mr. Weasley. And 50 points from Gryffindor."

Draco smirked at him, never mind the fact that his cheek was swollen looking already. As haughty and beautiful as ever, and then some.

"Fuck you." Ron muttered, and he knew he shouldn't have said it but it was too late.

"Be my guest Weasley." Draco said like velvet. It was strange how his voice could take on the qualities of a texture. Like a silken glove wrapping around a throat.

Ron hated his effect, and could say nothing else without tripping over his words, so he gave him the finger, which was also a mistake.

Draco's robes swirled around him as he gathered his things, kicking Ron's books aside, as he went into potions class. Finally after precious minutes of restacking and reorganizing, Ron was ready to go to class. He was late, so what.

But, wait what was that on the floor? A folded bit of parchment… Ron picked it up, and unfolded.

It read:

Draco,

I expect you in the dugeons tonight.

Your Loving Father

Why were the dungeons so damn cold? Ron shivered under Harry's borrowed invisibility cloak.

He had been waiting since 9, so he had no idea what time was this "tonight" was supposed to be. He thought about giving up a few times, but his determination wouldn't let him, he knew he had to see this. Maybe it was a death eater meeting, something big could be happening here.

Finally at the stroke of midnight, Ron heard footsteps, and the whispered word "Lumos". He resisted the urge to run and hide, he was invisible after all, and watched as the dungeons were flooded with light. The light brought a lot of things to Ron's attention.

A table set up to the left of him… covered with whips, strange studded things, many other things Ron had never seen, much less imagined in his 16 years. Chairs and tables with restraining straps. Chains were even hanging low from the ceiling… Ron felt like he had somehow stumbled into hell.

Lucius Malfoy strolled into the wide, open room with its large, cave stonewalls. Draco followed, his head hung low.

"Snape tells me you got into another fight with a Weasley."

"Yes father." Draco's voice was soft, and submissive.

"Take your clothes off." Ron watched in shock as Lucius turned his back to his son, and removed his leather gloves, finger by finger. He watched as Lucius eyed the table loaded with whips, and paddles. Ron then wondered what he had gotten himself into.

Then, unable to look away, Ron watched as Draco undressed, shedding robes into a neat pile. The mixture of shadow and light revealed the porcelain smooth, whiteness of Draco's skin slowly, lingering. Ron flushed at the unexpected beauty of Draco's shoulder blades, the lines of his hips, the smooth girl-thighs, tapered chest, a very pretty cock even. Ron could see that Lucius had noticed the same things.

Lucius smiled sardonically at his naked son, at the exact same moment that Ron was looking at his archenemy in awe, in spite of himself. This awe turned to confusion as he watched father and son kiss, long, hot, wet entanglement of tongue, teeth, and lips. He watched in a numb sort of shock as he watched Lucius' hands creep down the knots of Draco's spine to squeeze his ass. Draco turned his head to the side, panting a little. And Lucius pulled a black, thin strap object out of his pocket, Ron strained to see it. A large silver ring was attached to the choker-strap.

Lucius smiled, no, sneered at Draco and pulled it tight around his neck. He gripped the O-shaped ring and then attached it to a chain hanging from the ceiling. He hooked it high enough that Ron could see that Draco would have a hard time standing up straight, he would have to lean forward to avoid choking.

All of this he noted in shock. Yet even now when his daft self knew what was going on, knew that he shouldn't be here. He couldn't stop himself from looking, from watching.

Next Lucius found another thick black strap, tied Draco's hands behind him tightly. So tightly that Ron could see how white Draco's hands went, from lack of blood circulation.

Walking back over to the table, Lucius then picked up a black leather whip. He struck the air with it, and Ron watched the full length unravel, the end curling like a sperpant's tongue.

Ron watched as Lucius raised the whip and watched as it arched across Draco's back. The sound of whip slicing the air, and then skin, was sharp and crisp, but Ron did not see Draco react when it graced his back. He only seemed to arch his back a bit, not that he could even do too much without getting choked because his neck was attached to the chain. On the 7th blow Ron could clearly see Draco biting his lips bloody.

Smooth red lines bled down his back. And on the 8th stroke, Draco gave a small, little cry.

But to Ron's ears, it sounded more like a passionate moan than a painful scream as if he enjoyed being whipped and tied up like that. It even looked like his cock was half hard.

Lucius carried on, artfully never hitting the same places twice, the whip sliced in smoothly. Soon Draco's back was a bloody mess but still the whipping continued, and all the while Ron was noticing how Draco's groans grew louder with each lick of the whip.

Ron bit his lip in silent anxiety, at the small, sobbing sounds coming from Draco. Lucius seemed to sigh as well, but it was not one of pity, more like a gasp of awe at Draco's resistance to pain, but Ron had to frown at the noise. Again, and again it did not sound like a hurt person, it sounded like a wild animal, broken with lust. Draco did enjoy it, and Ron could not erase this thought and what it meant.

When Draco finally moaned aloud on the twentieth stroke, his cock stiff and red, Ron got his suspicion confirmed. Draco was aroused from this torture.

Ron was having a morality crisis. He knew he shouldn't let this happen, but it was so clear that Draco was enjoying it. And how could he stop it anyway? What could he do?

Six more blows later and Draco groaned like he was ready to come, and he was trembling in his binds, white fingers clenching. He was saying something over and over, but Ron could not understand what he was saying.

That was when Lucius finally tossed the whip away. Ron felt relief for the first time that night. He undid Draco's hands and massaged the wrists, then unlatched the collar from the hanging chain. Draco fell to the ground, and did not move.

Ron watched the line of his shoulders, the small rise there. He was breathing.

Lucius tidied up his robes, and then left the dungeon. Ron listened to his echoing footsteps as they faded, as soon as he could no longer hear them, he flung Harry's invisiblity cloak off and ran to Draco's side.

"Draco?" He asked. He could not see his face, and he was afraid to touch him.

Softly, under his breath, Draco was repeating the word "please" over and over again. He was curled like a fetus, shuddering hard as if he could not stand it any longer. His strange, unseeing grey eyes caught Ron's blue. He murmured, "please… do it to me… do it to me now…"

"No," Ron said in shock. "What's wrong with you Malfoy?"

"Can't… can't help it… it's because I knew you…. were watching," Draco breathed. "Weasley… please… touch me… please…"

At that moment Ron was torn between his rational mind to touch Draco in just the way he wanted, and for the first time ever, wanting to help him. Maybe he could do both.

He crouched down, kneeling, kissed Draco's shoulder. Then kissed his face, each cheek, as if in prayer, and then finally Draco moved his head so their lips touched, tongue meeting tongue, soft, yet earth-shattering. Well it was a hell of a lot better then punching him.

Draco guided one of his hands between his bare legs. Ron touched, explored, and stroked his erection. He watched Draco turn into a pretty, writhing thing before his eyes.

This wasn't making any sense, yet at this point he couldn't stop himself. Draco kept moaning his name, not even his last name, but "Ron" over and over on that silken voice it sounded good. Yet he knew that Draco needed a little more, he broke the kiss, and ran his free hand down Draco's chest, then his mouth, as he latched on to his right, pink nipple and bit hard.

Finally Draco spurted in Ron's hand. Ron, a little flushed, and turned on himself, was trying to figure out where to wipe it, when he felt Draco's hot, wet tongue licking his palm clean. Well… that solved one problem…


End file.
